She turned in a complaint of stiff skirts, then paused. I prepared my smiling gratitude for her wish of “Have a good night” or “Enjoy your stay,” or, most hopefully, an invitation for a late supper.

Instead, Frau Gottschalk said, “Best to use the cotton on your bedside tables for your ears. To muffle the…sounds.”

And with that she disappeared down the unlit hallway, leaving us alone on the threshold of our room.

“Well.” I dropped the trunk on the worn wood floor. “This is dark.” I eased blindly through the room. After stubbing my toes against the foot of a bed, I felt my way over to a tightly shuttered window. I tugged on the shutters, but there was some latching mechanism that I could not see.

My hip bumped against a table, and I found a lamp. Fortunately, the wick was still lit, though barely. I turned up the gas. The room was slowly revealed.

“Perhaps it would be best to leave the lamp dimmed,” I said, laughing. Justine was still by the door, wringing her hands.

I crossed to her, taking her hands in my own. “Do not let Frau Gottschalk bother you. She is just an unhappy soul, and we will not be here long. When we find Victor tomorrow, he can direct us to better lodgings.”

She nodded, some of the tension leaving her face. “And Henry will know someone kind.”

“Henry will know everyone kind by now!” I beamed in agreement; it was a lie. She thought Henry was still in the city. Their easy friendship had been part of the lure to get her here. Believing Henry would be waiting for us comforted her.

Henry, of course, was not here. If he were, doubtless he would have made friends of the entire city. Victor, on the other hand, would have only Henry. I had broken that between them. And though I knew I should feel bad for Victor, I was too angry with him and with Henry. I had done what was necessary.

Henry had gotten what he wanted, at least in part. It was all well and good for them to be exploring, studying and working for the futures they had already secured by virtue of their births. Some of us had to find other means.

Some of us had to lie and deceive in order to travel to another country, chase those means down, and drag him back home.

I turned back to our sad room. “Would you like the cobweb bedspread, or the one that appears to be made of funeral shrouds?”

Justine crossed herself, scowling at my humor. But then she pulled off her gloves, nodding firmly. “I will get the room up to standards.”

“We will. You are not my servant, Justine.”

She smiled at me. “But I am forever in your debt. And I love opportunities to help you.”